Where life lasts longer than a couple of weeks past maturity!

depressed

Over the last few years – since the sentencing really — I have learned to give family members their space, even when I feel the need to talk to them, even when I really want to know that they are okay. I have learned my needs do not outweigh theirs. Hence when I went to send out “Merry Christmas” notes this week I deleted the one to a family member who has needed to put distance between us. And to my surprise I got a note from that family member, all on her own, a great Christmas present.

This family member was in need of chatting, processing the negative affect that infamous day is still having on many of our lives. I prayed I would have the right words. Prayed hard.

So I wrote: I know the positive stuff/outlook/attitude is a challenge at times. I stumble each week and tears often drip from my eyes many days of the week, often many times of the day. But the duration of the love drops that fall from my eyes is shorter, most days. But you are right “…nothing has been the same or even normal for 6 years.” I know the selfish people took joy from our lives… evident by this empty house I sit in, evident by the fact that my daughters and I have not spoken in year and 7 months.”

I thought to myself, nothing will ever be the same. It can’t be. Our E-man is gone.

I know we, this entire family, have a big whole in our hearts, souls and lives. Our family is now so disjointed, spread to all of the corners of the US and we are no longer tight. Add to this that many of my loved ones are not dealing with the death, let alone dealing well with the loss of such a positive part of all of our lives. But as I allow the love to stream down my face, as I wipe the love that drips from my eyes… I have chosen to do my best to not let those selfish people take more and more and more and more. They have taken enough from me, from us all.

I fake it ‘till I make it.
I am still faking it.
But there are now moments, moments that are added side by side now, that help me find the joys in the moments I am in. Temporary/limited … yes, but they are moments our boy encourages.

It was then she asked me if I was able to take a call. So I gave her my phone number (I think she was glad it had not changed) and two hours 29 minutes later we hung up. Tears were shared. Heck, the moment I heard her voice the tears began. She sounded good. We caught up. We re-ran through many things and clarity was gained for her. And some for me, too. Apologies were made. Apologies were accepted. Encouragement of more healing was given.

This life my son’s family and friends are now living is not a life we had thought we would be living. But it is a life that we must be lived. It is a life we must find a way to live. Find a way to put one foot in front of the other. Find a why to honor our loved one while not letting the selfish bastards continue to victimize any of us. I wish this progression in all who love my son, Ethan and all who have been touched by his story.

Mind-full Conversation …

a continuing set of chats

It is not cruel and unusual punishment to keep him locked away in thatinstitutionnor his sister-wife. I hate it when folks forget howinhumanethe Orange Blob’s treatment of you was (and of others).

I love it how the cops call here the “Swife”.

It is comical, isn’t it Lovie.

Yep.

So, momma….

Yes, Lovie.

After all thoseinterviews…she looked up to the sky … Did they get all the information they needed … to help the families of some of his first victims?

No Lovie. It seems there is still some more interest in getting more out of him.

So they think what he has told them has some merit?

It seems so.

Are there industry standards for how much they can get with this plea bargain?
No, each plea bargain is written specific to the criminal.

Will they keep you informed of progress?

Yes, Lovie. After all, they would not have made the leaps and bounds in these cases if your murder had not provided them with the DNA. Plus, the facts are so similar they seem tomergeinto one big case. They keep me up to date, Iinsiston it. Heck, I email them on your birth date, your death date and now the death date of the two others.

Sept. 8th, marks 6 years since my son, Ethan JD Kline Walton was robbed of his life and other horrendous acts were played out on other family members of mine. My “Mind-full Conversation” are things I would say to my son, as if her were still here, allowing me to share information with others as well.

It happened again, just the other day — it was suggested that I “stop going onto those pages and stop helping others who are grieving because it is keeping you living in the past.” Like my grief is holding me back. Like my learning to live with my grief and helping to lead others out of a very dark place — that I had gotten to after the murder of my son — is a bad thing.

I shake my head, more at myself than anyone, at questioning, for a moment, if the lady who suggested this was right.

As I questioned myself and my own path over the last, nearly, 6 years. I began looking at my interaction with others. I will admit I even compared my interactions, a bit, with her’s. Now this is a church going, God loving person who is active in her church. So, I was surprised this came from her, on one hand, but … then again she has not suffered a heaven sent child loss – first hand – as I have. She has only been on the shirttail of it all since that 8th day of September 2010.

I have found that I think she, and many others possibly (because this has been said to me by a couple of other well meaning, loving folks) forgotten that in 1 Peter 4:10-11 we are told:

As each has received a gift, [we are to] use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—[should do so] in order that in everything [we do] God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever.

After all, I openly admit that I couldn’t have made it this far without the strength of something bigger then myself. But maybe I missed effectively conveying this to those around me whom my grief still bothers, to those around me who are at a loss because my grief still hurts them.

Maybe they think I can turn my grief on and off like a light switch.
Maybe they think it would be easier to deal with me if I was not so open about my grief, open about my learning to live on this altered path, open about taking x-y- and z steps to regain what I can of me (the me that was here before the murder of my son)?

Then I find myself looking at Galatians 5:13-14:For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

For many who know me, are coming to know me through this blog, the Hearts For Bereaved page (a private group page on Facebook), and one-on-one contact like the recent blessing of answering the phone, at my day job, to a wife who is reeling from the unexpected death of her husband – I am a loving person. I am a ‘Pay It Forward’ person. It has been my nature since I was born. It is ingrained in me to give so much, let alone it goes along with my personal faith.

Don’t get me wrong, there have been things (and people) that have happened in my life that have tried to break that loving kindhearted spirit within me. There have even been times I thought “that” might have won. But, alas, today, today I can say – those forces have not won. I have. And it is because of the strength I have gained from my faith which tells me at my weakest the strength comes from God.

I am reminded in Proverbs11:25: Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered. The reality is I have been blessed. I have not been nice and loving and kind and caring to others to better my place in the eye of the Lord. In turn, allowing myself to continue to be kind has helped me. It has “watered” my soul, as it is promised in Proverbs 11:25.

I am not blind to Philippians 2:1-5 in which we are encouraged to not be selfish if we feel encouragement from our relationship with Jesus. So if there is any encouragement in Christ, (which I have) any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit (which I have), any affection and sympathy (which I have), complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from rivalry or conceit (which I do not), but in humility count others more significant than yourselves (which I have be faulted by others for doing). Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others….

I am reminded that …we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them (Ephesians 2:10).

When one of us suffers a deep personal loss of a child or a husband, wife, sibling or friend we should not be alone in our grief at all times. That is not how it was meant to be. We need others to lead us, by example, by encouragement and sometimes by the hand — out of the darkness and down the new, bumpy path we are now thrust upon to travel. And that is what I am doing when I help others who walk, stumble and fall on the same or nearly same path I am now navigating.

I am sorry my grief has not dissipated and has not gone away – because it seems, even nearly 6 years later, my grief is still too much for others. I am sorry my grief brings pain to others. But I am better than I was, even if they don’t see it. I am healthier because I am able to share this grief aloud with others. I am healthier because I am able to be the shoulder for others. I am stronger in my faith, as well, as I do not question the helping position I have been put in (just wish others saw it that way too).

It’s been a long time…
A long time since I have felt relaxed enough and at peace enough to do something….
Something that makes me happy to the core…
To create something
To create something out of nothing
Or create something out of the beginning ideas of another.Something I have done
Something my son knew made me happy.
Something I did for him.
Something I have done for others.
Something I was able to share with my Ethan, and his siblings.

He and his sister, Kayla, challenged each other (when they were 10 and 8 respectively) and they used to get 12 stitches per inch, hand sewing.

Today, as I begin cutting fabric for a quilt
I do so with a tear and a smile.A tear as the murderer almost soured my heart and soul so much that he almost took this artistic form of expression away from me
A tear because I know why I stopped
A selfish tear because I miss my Ethan
A tear because I am glad my mind, heart and soul have a thick enough scab to allow me to begin again.

Your honor, what makes this bastard think he has the right to stomp all over the rights of anyone, let alone my kids! (Okay, your honor, it is reported his mother and father were married when he was born.)

Having children and living with your sister, I don’t care if she is your half-sister… it’s not right … on oooh ssssoooo many levels!

Are there associations for incestuous bastards? Bet there is where you are going! (Sorry your honor you asked me not to address the defendant. My bad.)

Who thinks that it is okay to have a brandy with your sister, pursue her like she’s “just the gal next door,” bed her down, live with her as your wife, and father your twin nieces? Who? Who?
It’s just not natural!

The services I know you deserve are not allowed in this civilized nation we live in, but I have already volunteered to help with them if I could.
Castration. Skinning, after all I am good at both, but I would work on not doing my best job, just for you. Torturing — I can learn, after all, I am inspired by your cruelty, I could learn to give you a life lesson: “and eye for an eye”.

Wonder if I could find someone willing to violate you, repeatedly, against your will while you worried about a loved one? Hummm.

There is a valley, a valley in your life that is covered in shale. That flaky slippery slope you have been traveling on is mainly covered in “oh sh**” and his name is Ethan. His name is Ethan! Did you hear me? His name is E-t-h-a-n, Ethan! You may have taken his life, cut it short, but now you have met your match.

Bet you didn’t think that 19-year-old would get the best of you… did you, you orange clad blob?

I bet you expected the son of my ex-husband to show up that day. But, you were wrong. Dead wrong. You see I have raised-up our son. Ethan may have had a lot of youthful looks that one could imagine the ex had in his own youth, but the boy, the young bourgeoning man that showed up to deal with you one-on-one as an adult … that was MY son! And he bested you. He became that which you denied would come – your equalizer. Because God decided you needed to be stopped.

Remember that, you horse’s backside: a 19-year-old boy and an 18-year-old girl were sent by God to stop you. And stop you they have.

Sure, your pastor of a mom teaches, “an eye for an eye” – to others.
I hope you learn this first and for years to come.

Sure, your pastor of a mom teaches, “thou shall not kill” – to others.
Oh wait… were you out of class on that teaching day?
Oh wait… that is not something that is only taught on one day of a person’s life. Did you show up at all to these lessons? Did she choose not to teach her own?

Sure, your pastor of a mom teaches, “thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor” – to others.
But isn’t that just what you did when you lied and told the cops Ethan and his gal where there to “rob” you? Guess the good Lord saw to that being proven to be “false witnessing”.

Sure, your pastor of a mom teaches, “not to covet thy neighbor’s house”— to others.
Yet you killed Ethan over a piece of land he was selling you.

Maybe your momma didn’t teach you. Well, we can see she didn’t. You didn’t mom.
She certainly knew you were a bad seed; you knew, dam you, you knew.
She certainly knew that you accosted your own sisters.
She should have stopped you. You should have stopped him!

I wonder… did you, mom, really think that becoming a pastor would ensure any absolution for yourself, for your failings or absolve of your son’s bad acts?

You were wrong. You both were wrong on many levels.

Sorry judge. They were wrong your honor. They were wrong.

Your honor, don’t you think there is a proper cell awaiting her too for her apathetic ways?

I sit at this desk … realizing it has been over 8 hours since I lay down on my pillow.

It has been over 8 hours, 8 hours of rest that my body demanded and earn as I slept.

Many may say, “8 hours, so what.”

But this week is the beginning of something new.

You see, I have not been able to sleep for a consecutive 8 hours in… years! Yes, years.

Although I have had my light sleep issues as an adult, a mom over the years, it is changing. I have come to sleep with my TV on, in my bedroom, for years. It used to be the radio. If I woke at 1, 3 or 4 in the morning, I was able to give my mind something to think about, other than life’s worries. And most of the time I was able to get back to sleep. But my sleep was, what I have come to think was pertinently altered, on Sept. 9th, 2010. And I have come to think that 3 to 5 hours of sleep was it. I have gotten used to this. The murder of my son disrupted my life and I have come to accept that.

What I did not expect was: on Sept 26, two years and 18 days after the death of my son, the witnessing of the sentencing of the sister/wife (and second perpetrator in the fate-filled day) I have, in fact, begun to sleep better.

I knew that my daughters seeing and witnessing the second perpetrator’s sentencing would help them. You see my older daughter babysat for the murder and kidnappers (about 4 years before the day of destruction) and the my younger daughter had met the perps in the Spring of 2010. I knew it would be cathartic for them, let alone help my daughter-in-law … but, I will admit, I did not think it mattered much to me, personally. The murderer has been locked up since that night and that was of the utmost importance. And I knew the sister/wife was going to go to prison, eventually. What I didn’t realize is – that I had been holding my breath.

I know the sister/wife was only charged with the kidnapping and some drug charges; I know that it is more than difficult to “prove” when the sister/wife “knew” of my son’s murder on her property by her brother/husband; I know that many on both sides of the law and family wished she could have been convicted as an accessory, even if it was after the fact. Okay. But what I did not know is this sister/wife being out on bail was affecting me so much. I was so busy worrying about helping the others in my family that I overlooked the effect this portion of this mess was affecting me.

Here’s to making eye contact with perpetrators who have wronged your family. It will make you sleep better at night. I did me.